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Olivier
You’re not here. I noticed.
Wish I was.
Olivier
Come back.
Maybe I’ll stop by before work.
Olivier
I’ll come to you, then.
No.
Olivier
Just let me.
Do I have the energy to fight this battle? Do I have the ability to resist the one person in the world who wants me around?
No. I don’t.
I text him my address with the warning: Keep your expectations low. Text me when you get here.
I take a shower, which I’d usually save for this evening, but if I don’t do something, I’ll crash and sleep through his text.
Staying awake one more hour is worth it, though, because when I go down to get him, he’s the best thing I’ve ever seen on this side of town.
Dressed way, way down in sweats and his puffy coat, he catches me up in a kiss right there in broad daylight in the middle of the sidewalk. And while I’m still bone-tired, his hands on my face and his mouth on mine wake up enough parts of me that sleep moves to the back of my mind.
I grab him by the shoulders and pull away to look at him. His blue eyes are lighter in the bright sunshine, flecks of black and gray standing out. “You smell great.”
“You too.”
I take his hand. “Come on up.”
We live on the second floor, and I appreciate that Olivier doesn’t comment on the state of the old building, which probably takes some effort on his part. I open the door to the apartment and usher him in. He takes a cursory glance around. “It’s bigger than I pictured,” he says. “You made it sound like a coffin.”
I chuckle. “It’s small for four people.”
“Yeah, I guess. So where is everyone?”
“That’s a long story, and as of this morning a sensitive subject. The important part is I have a room to myself today, and you’re welcome in it.”
“That’s very sweet, Drew.” He gives me a sly smile. With one door closed and the other open, he correctly proceeds toward the one where I’m sleeping today.
It’s sparse compared to his luxury digs, with blackout curtains and a single lamp on the lone nightstand. The bed is queen-sized, and a large Ikea dresser takes up most of the rest of the space along with a standing clothes rack.
“There’s something unbelievably sexy about this,” he says.
I huff. “You think?”
“Yeah.”
I lie down on the bed, not wasting any more time getting horizontal. He flips through the clothes rack, and I ask, “How’d it go last night?”
